Chapter 97 Leaving the Old School Building
"Don't worry. I'll find a way to reach the outside. We're getting out of here," Bianca said, clasping Jasmine's hand firmly.
Jasmine's eyes shimmered with guilt. "Bianca... it's my fault. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be trapped here."
"If you say that again, I'll be mad," Bianca replied, giving Jasmine's cheek a light, teasing pinch.
Paxton watched their exchange, his gaze darkening for a fraction of a second before he looked down at his phone. The massive red error message glared back at him—his text hadn't gone through.
"The signal here is awful. Getting a message out might be impossible." He shook the phone slightly as if that would help.
Bianca's brow furrowed. She released Jasmine's hand and scanned the room.
Her eyes caught the sunlight spilling through a window. The height... maybe worth a try. In the corner of the bathroom, a worn wooden chair leaned against the wall.
"Bianca, can that chair even hold you?" Jasmine asked, worry etched across her face as Bianca dragged it over.
"Both of you, hold it steady for me."
She stepped onto the chair with practiced ease. Jasmine rushed to steady one side, Paxton moved to the other.
Old as it was, the chair held.
Bianca gripped the window frame and peered out.
A thick branch stretched a couple of meters away—close enough to break a fall. She could make it. Jasmine... maybe not. This was the second floor, after all.
She dropped back down, brushing the dust from her hands. "Let's check the first-floor bathroom."
Directly below, the first-floor window was sealed shut. Bianca exhaled, the sound heavy. "Looks like we'll have to jump from upstairs."
On the way back, they checked near the front door—no exit.
Back in the upstairs bathroom, Bianca climbed the chair again, forcing the window outward.
Age had weakened the frame. With a sharp crack of shattering glass, the pane gave way.
The opening was narrow—one person at a time.
She braced a foot against the tiled wall, hands gripping the sill, her body half outside in an awkward lean.
Ten meters wasn't far, but the drop was enough to make her pulse spike. The branch was closer than she'd thought.
She stepped onto the outside unit of an air conditioner.
It held firm.
One deep breath, and she launched herself.
Her feet landed solidly on the branch. Relief washed over her, loosening her shoulders.
The trees here had grown wild, thick and tall, their branches strong enough to hold her.
"I'll go next. Hold it steady," Paxton said, his tone reluctant.
Around Jasmine, his feelings were tangled—dislike and grudging tolerance twisting together until he shoved the thought aside.
She nodded silently. They weren't close; just classmates. His coldness had never surprised her.
Paxton climbed out, meeting Bianca's eyes briefly before looking away.
Without waiting, he leapt.
His foot skidded on the bark. He pitched forward, hands scrambling for purchase, catching nothing but shallow cuts.
The branch slowed his fall enough to keep him from serious injury, but he stayed crouched, clutching his waist, face tight with pain and embarrassment.
Bianca pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Why rush? I wanted to check the front door first."
Paxton's eyes widened. "You could've said that earlier."
"You didn't give me the chance." She shrugged.
Ignoring him, Bianca cupped her hands to her mouth and called toward the upstairs window. "Jasmine! Try the front door!"
Luck was on their side—the lock was gone. Blair had only wedged it shut with a metal rod.
Bianca pushed it open. Jasmine ran out, slipping behind her for cover.
"It's over. We're out. Don't be afraid." Bianca's hand rested lightly on her back.
"Bianca... I wasn't trying to avoid helping Blair with her paper. I just had too much of my own work. I really didn't have the time." Jasmine clutched her clothes, voice trembling, tears brimming.
For once, Paxton—usually Blair's defender—didn't argue.
Bianca's eyes hardened. This was a debt she'd settle with Blair.
The private investigator delivered exactly what she needed.
As expected, Blair had never intended for Jasmine to help. She'd already secured a ghostwriting team.
Even Jasmine's refusal hadn't stopped her from moving forward.
Bianca crushed the printed evidence in her hand, her gaze cold.
Those so-called professionals were mercenaries for hire. For a price, Bianca had bought Blair's chat logs and payment receipts.
She saved them, packaged them, and sent them straight to Blair.
She didn't want mutual destruction—just something to keep Blair constantly on edge.
Only then would Blair leave Jasmine alone.
Blair read the files, rage flaring. She called the ghostwriters, but they'd already blocked her.
Her phone clattered against the table before she snatched it back, fingers stabbing at the screen.
Blair: [Bianca, what the hell are you doing?]
The paper was already published. Too late to change anything.
Bianca: [Stay away from Jasmine. Don't lay a hand on her. If anyone touches her, I'll hand everything to the dean.]
Blair's jaw clenched, her face flushed. She had no choice but to agree.
Blair: [Fine. But if I find out you've sent those files, I won't spare Jasmine.]
Blair knew she couldn't take down Bianca. So she'd aim for the weaker target.